_Vailima Plantation_, _Samoan Islands_, _Oct._ 10_th_, 1892.
MY DEAR BURLINGAME,—It is now, as you see, the 10th of October, and there
has not reached the Island of Upolu one single copy, or rag of a copy, of
the Samoa book. I lie; there has come one, and that in the pocket of a
missionary man who is at daggers drawn with me, who lends it to all my
enemies, conceals it from all my friends, and is bringing a lawsuit
against me on the strength of expressions in the same which I have
forgotten, and now cannot see. This is pretty tragic, I think you will
allow; and I was inclined to fancy it was the fault of the Post Office.
But I hear from my sister-in-law Mrs. Sanchez that she is in the same
case, and has received no ‘Footnote.’ I have also to consider that I had
no letter from you last mail, although you ought to have received by that
time ‘My Grandfather and Scott,’ and ‘Me and my Grandfather.’ Taking one
consideration with another, therefore, I prefer to conceive that No. 743
Broadway has fallen upon gentle and continuous slumber, and is become an
enchanted palace among publishing houses. If it be not so, if the
‘Footnotes’ were really sent, I hope you will fall upon the Post Office
with all the vigour you possess. How does _The Wrecker_ go in the
States? It seems to be doing exceptionally well in England.—Yours
sincerely,